


Bodhi Needs New Neighbors and an Ambien

by rockcandyshrike



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation Interruptus, i love that that's a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockcandyshrike/pseuds/rockcandyshrike
Summary: Are you there Force? It's me, Bodhi Rook, and I would really really really really really really like to sleep through the night without having to listen to Chirrut and Baze having dirty nasty animal sex all the time thank you very much.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackice/gifts).



> For the rogueonekink.dreamwidth prompt:
> 
> Everybody lives AU where the Rogue One squad finally get some down time in their life after the events of the movie. Chirrut and Baze take the rare opportunity of not being in a life or death situation to go at it like rabbits.
> 
> But the problem is, the rebel base has some pretty thin walls. They aren't even that loud during sex, but it's impossible for character of your choice in the room next to theirs to not know what's going on. And they're going at it all the time.
> 
> Bonus points if the character is hella awkward about it the next day (especially because they got turned on), and Chirrut catches on and acts like a lil shit.
> 
> I'm so sorry it took so long to finish this. And shout out to Jordan for being there all the way to kick my ass into finishing this!

Bodhi would gladly go another round with Saw Gerrera's tentacle monster if it meant he could get a full night's sleep.

As it is, he's lying in his narrow bed in his tiny single room in the Rebel Alliance base on Yavin 4. Bodhi doesn't have an issue with his confined space. The Empire shoved three to a room this size easy, and they hot-bedded too, so there could've been anywhere from six to twelve pilots sharing a room at a time. Having a room to himself is a luxury he's never had, even when he was a little one amongst many back in Jedha, before the Empire took him and he was shunted into the Academy. He should be thrilled with his tiny single room.

His tiny single room with _very thin walls._

Bodhi thinks Baze and Chirrut are great people. Baze may have tried to strangle him with his bare hands when they first met, but he's become a steadfast friend and these days will save a bread roll for him when he comes into the mess hall late with a friendly poke at how skinny he is. Chirrut is still inscrutable, swinging from wise and sphinx-like to flippant and devil-may-care at the drop of a hat, but Bodhi is pretty sure they're friends. Sometimes when his mind is racing and tinkering on ships doesn't help, he'll find Chirrut meditating somewhere and sit next to him, with Baze nearby watching of course, and Chirrut will start praying aloud. Listening to his unwavering “I am one with the Force. The Force is with me.” is soothing. He may not be religious, there was no tolerance for that in the Empire, but he thinks he remembers that his family was. Is. Whatever tense is appropriate.

To sum up his feelings on the two former Guardian of the Whills, Bodhi knows they have his back. He thinks when you go on an unauthorized suicide mission with a ragtag group of rebels to a heavily guarded Imperial security complex to stop a planet-destroying superweapon that just obliterated your home, you can't help but come to respect each other. And Bodhi isn't sure if he's making this up as a product of his soul-crushing loneliness when he was an Imperial, but he's reasonably certain Chirrut and Baze are at least a bit paternal towards him. Like Galen was, so absolutely _was_ , before he died.

Which makes it extremely awkward when he can hear them fucking like loth-cats in heat every night.

And some mornings. And some afternoons! Bodhi had no idea the two older Jedhans had so much stamina and frankly it disturbs him and it's causing his sleep schedule to suffer severely. Like right now.

“Oh Force, faster!”

That's Chirrut's strangled voice through his walls and judging by the squeaking springs, Baze complied with fervor. Chirrut's groan is heartfelt and appreciative, cut off quickly by wet smacking noises that Bodhi shouldn't hear but can because his tiny single room's walls are so _very fucking thin._

Bodhi pulls his pillow over his face and curses a blue streak until he runs out of breath and then spits out a few more colorful expletives that would make a deathtrooper blush red under its mask for good measure. (Being a cargo pilot was an education in vulgarity.) Bodhi's supposed to help Cassian tinker with Rogue One tomorrow, but he won't be able to do jackshit because he hasn't slept properly in days! Bodhi can't remember what life at regular speed is like he's been so sluggish. He takes naps, but they're not enough. Well, he takes short naps. Okay, cat naps. Alright, passing-out-and-jerking-awake naps. The point is he's tired, but his schedule is too full for anything else. He has so much to do. So much to still prove to the Rebellion. He has to keep making things right. 

He can't do that if his neighbors continue to keep him up with their ludicrous amounts of sex.

The thought is punctuated by a grunt and Baze's low voice asking, “Do you want more Chirrut?”

_Blast! Blast! Triple blast! Blast a voiding trooper's balls off! No no no! Fuck! Shut the fuck up!_

There's a hoarse “Yes, Baze please!”, and oh stars and planets the sound of hard thrusting.

Bodhi doesn't remember much of his native tongue, but thanks to Chirrut and Baze he can swear fluently in Jedhan now. He never expected this to be a side effect of their shared heritage.

The sounds from the adjacent room inevitably rise and Bodhi can hear the two cry out as they reach completion together, and then softly murmured words affirming their love to each other. Bodhi wants to die of embarrassment. His face burns hotter than a supernova as he looks at his chrono. 2:47 AM. What the fuck. He groans internally as he turns over and fitfully, but finally falls asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time it happened Bodhi froze up.

He had been enjoying himself at a raging party the rebels had thrown to celebrate a major mission that had garnered them the support of an important Inner Rim planet. He may have been drinking a bit more than was wise, but who cared? Back when he was under the Empire's thumb, he would've been disciplined harshly for getting sloshed. He remembered another cargo pilot who had been spaced after he reported to a superior officer while reeking of rotgut. Most of the cargo pilots who had witnessed it had decided never to drink before inspections again, though they certainly never quit drinking.

Here? The other rebels slapped his back as they pressed drink after drink into his hand. He wasn't sure where the rest of the Rogue One team had gone. He'd seen Jyn saunter off clutching the hip of a busty Balosar girl and K-2SO would rather factory reset himself than attend a party anyway, but he had no idea where Cassian, Baze or Chirrut were. Surprisingly, Bodhi wasn't left to molder away alone in a corner and found a lot of people were eager and willing to listen to him raptly as he had rambled about how the wiring in a SW-0608 differed from a SW-1721's.

He was deep in a conversation with a commando sergeant and was starting to fall morose, as he was wont to cycle through emotions when he got wasted. His friendly ear had shifted closer and made a wisecrack while rubbing Bodhi's shoulder that instantly perked him back up again with a sunny giggle. His companion had grinned back and leaned forward, before an expression Bodhi couldn't parse in his sodden state quickly passed over their face and a hand clamped down on his other shoulder. Bodhi startled, the hot pink liquid in his glass spilling over his hand, and whirled around to see none other than Captain Cassian Andor smiling tightly at him.

“Ah, Bodhi. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I'm glad you're having fun, but perhaps you've had enough to drink,” his pleasant voice softening the pointed remark and the gesture to the Bodhi's fruity cocktail and damp sleeve.

Bodhi was about to point out that he'd only spilled his drink because Cassian had startled him, but Cassian was gently kneading his shoulder and Bodhi's mind blanked out. He stammered something approximating an agreement, however he made a point of throwing back the rest of his shot. He set it down on the bar and deciding it was too much effort to get a napkin, licked his hand clean. 

Sucking on his sleeve, he glanced back up and noticed two pairs of dark eyes focused on him. Bodhi suddenly felt the crackling tension in the air and flushed hotly. He needed-he needed to leave. He shook off the hands on both of his shoulders, tongue tripping over a flustered excuse, and fled like an Imperial TIE fighter was on his tail.

By the time he wobbled his tipsy way back to his room and was keying in his door-code, the alcohol had mellowed out the heat in his face into a general warmth of good feeling throughout his body. The previous encounter was already blurred in his mind as he pulled his clothes off and fell onto his bed face-first. He flipped over onto his back and as his eyes drifted closed, he muzzily felt grateful that he'd defected to the Rebel Alliance.

_Force this is great—everyone's so—so nice—and funny and and—I love these people I really d-_

A loud **THUMP** jolted Bodhi out of his thoughts. He snapped his head up in bewilderment.

“If you slump down to the ground, we'll never make it to the bed,” a smirking voice chided.

“Who says I'm not right where I want to be?,” a gravelly voice retorted, “Come here.”

The sound of shuffling filtered through the wall, eventually followed by a happy sigh.

_aw it's just Chirrut and Baze—just Chirrut and Baze going to bed—I hope they had fun at the par-_

An undignified yelp, “Chirrut! I am not a chewtoy!”

A burst of laughter, “Come, husband dear, up! We aren't youthful newly-weds with youthful backs and knees anymore. I want to fuck you through a mattress, not the floor.”

_Oh. They're having fun now._

Bodhi heard Baze grumbling as he presumably got up. He thought he could make out Chirrut joking about “the blind leading the blind drunk,” and then a soft impact. The sound of clothes hitting the floor was joined by indistinct noises, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing.

_I should—I should—go? Go where ther-_

A sharp and keening whine— _holy shit is that Baze!?_ —from the next room had Bodhi swearing to all the gods and martyrs and saints he could remember from Jedha that he would never sin or covet, or, or, or gamble ever again if they would just please preserve his poor ears. What had he done to be subjected to overhearing his pseudo-father figures boni—aside from having been a part of the Empire! Because he was making up for that now! He was sorry, he really truly was, and he'd live a life of virtue and purity from now on, promise.

The most obscene moan— _that's definitely Baze_ —Bodhi had ever heard in his entire life filled the air.

Fuck it, no one was listening. Bodhi was going to place bets with all the other pilots tomorrow just see if he didn't. Bodhi heard Baze swear something in a dialect he didn't know. That, uh, that was a new one. Bodhi would have to remember that one. Not that he was likely to forget any of this nightmare anytime soon. He burrowed his face into his pillows and prayed for death. 

A loud slurp turned into Chirrut's wrecked voice, “Turn over, my flame, I want to be joined with you as deeply as possible. Want to pull your hair,” a bitten-off shout, “as I move inside you.”

Bodhi's internal dialogue at this point could best be described as the emergency sirens at full blast on repeat.

“Fuck, Chirrut, hurry,” Baze growled hotly.

“Give me the slick then.”

A drawer being pulled and shut. The sounds of bodies rearranging. Another **thump** as, Bodhi assumed, Baze hit the wall with his hand and snarled a few more choice words. Chirrut chuckled in reply.

“I'm sure you make a beautiful sight like this, with your back curving up for your lovely rear to meet me.”

The emergency sirens in Bodhi's brain were screaming into feedback.

“Stop being a fucking tease Chirrut, I need you now.”

A **smack** resounded through the wall and whatever noise Baze made was muffled by his pillow.

“Do you want it to hurt when you walk for a week, beloved? Do you want to be reminded of how I took you with abandon every time you sit down? Do you want me to make love to you raw, my dear?”

The mental emergency sirens blew out and Bodhi thought he might've been going into shock.

Baze made a desperate sound and Bodhi could hear him shifting, the clacking of teeth, quickly followed by a hiss, and Chirrut making soothing noises in between kisses.

“I'll give you what you want Baze, I always will. Just be a little more patient. We'll ask for leave and then I'll have you like that. Turn around again please,” he said with a ragged edge to his voice.

There's the sounds of slick being applied, accompanied by Baze making inarticulate noises without inhibition. It went on for several minutes until Bodhi heard the exact moment Chirrut entered Baze when they groan in unison. Baze panted frenziedly as Chirrut crooned praise into his ear.

“Ah, my sweet handsome husband, so good for me, so tight and hot around my cock, I love you, I am going to wring you dry, I love you so much.”

Bodhi listened in absolute mortification as adoring words spilled from Chirrut's lips, as Baze lost all semblance of control, as their coupling got noisier and faster. At last, Baze roared out his orgasm, Chirrut's stifled cry trailing after. The mattress protested faintly as they collapsed and heaved for breath. 

After a long moment, Baze huffed tiredly, “For the last time, I am not a chewtoy, Chirrut.”

“No, husband of mine, you're simply the man I married and wish to show off,” Chirrut teased impishly.

“My neck is overjoyed to hear that.”

“Go to sleep Baze.”

“Yes, love.”

Bodhi stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity in abject suffering. He could never look at the two ex-Guardians the same way ever again. 

\--------

He must have passed out eventually because he woke up the next morning with the hangover to end all hangovers, rushing to the fresher and upending the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He considered going back to bed, but he knew he shouldn't skip meals. 

In a foul mood, he washed his mouth out and dragged himself to the mess hall, hair hanging in his face and flight suit sloppily tied around his waist. He waved at other miserable rebels as they trudged along the food line, and with a tray in hand he sat down heavily at an empty table and laid his head down next to his plate, dejectedly picking at his toast.

A cup of tea being placed in front of his face made him look up in surprise. Right into the bemused faces of his fellow Jedhans, Baze and Chirrut. _Great._

Bodhi mumbled something approximating a good morning if one was being very generous and laid his head back down.

Baze gently pushed the tea closer, “Drink this. It'll make you feel much better.”

“You certainly overindulged last night,” Chirrut kept his voice down which Bodhi was immensely grateful for, it was about the only thing he was grateful for regarding Chirrut, “Did you have fun with Vuusen?”

The garbled sound that Bodhi emitted was taken as an affirmation that he was alive if nothing else. He peeled his head up from the table and obediently drank his tea. It genuinely did make him feel much better and he nodded at Baze to say thank you, who nodded back and then bent over his own breakfast of spiced porridge. Chirrut had a bowl as well, but was inhaling the steam from his tea instead. The three shared silence for a minute or two, before Bodhi noticed Baze was in full armor. He (marginally) straightened up in alarm.

“Are we heading out? Because I can't fly like this, you'll have to get Kaytoo to do it.”

“What?,” Baze asked, glancing at him in confusion.

“You're all kitted out 'cept for your cannon. Where are you going?”

Chirrut's expression was serene as Baze coughed stiffly, “He's just prepared for anything.”

Bodhi realized the armor had a neck seal, a stormtrooper neck seal it looked like but he wasn't going to ask, and hastily shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. He focused on his plate and grunted in lieu of a response.

“Last night was most agreeable,” Chirrut said while smiling.

Baze hummed, “The walk around the lake was pleasant.”

Bodhi dropped his head down with a **thunk.**

_I hate the Rebel Alliance I'm leaving tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly this chapter is better than chapter 1, but not as good as chapter 3 which i am very very proud of


	3. Chapter 3

Bodhi has no idea how to confront the two.

He goes over the issue again in outline form, a method Stordan Tonc had helped him develop when the Rebel Alliance had been trial-running him with the corporal's unit. It was a way to deal with his occasionally disorganized mind, an aftereffect of Bor Gullet's scrambling he was learning to cope with. Bodhi tries to think of a strategy to ask them to stop having noisy sex at impolite hours, but all he can come up with are reasons telling Chirrut and Baze that they were fucking too loudly for him to sleep was a _disastrou_ _s_ idea.

     1. They were family now which Bodhi hadn't known for longer than he cared to admit.

  
          A. Bodhi hadn't been on very good terms with his father prior to Jedha—prior to defecting from the Empire.

  
               i. But Chirrut's sly humor and Baze's unwavering composure sometimes sent a familiar jolt of warmth through his chest.

  
          B. He’d come to greatly admire and often rely upon the two.

  
               i. Baze always warded off people when Bodhi was having a bad day and Chirrut was teaching him how to center himself.

  
               ii. He didn’t want to offend them, didn’t want them to scorn him because then his last thread to Jedha would evaporate.

  
                    a. And to put it bluntly, there was no one left for him on that ruined moon.

  
     2. They had a right to privacy. 

   
          A. No one wanted to have their neighbor tell them they were fucking too loudly.

  
               i. He certainly wouldn’t. Not that he was bringing anyone back to his room. Not that he didn’t want to bring anyone back to his room. It, just, uh

   
        B. Moving on. It was actually rather impressive that they were still crazy about each other after all these years and they should be allowed to enjoy themselves when they could.

  
               i. Especially since none of them knew if they were going to make it out of this war alive.

  
                    a. The junction between Bodhi’s prosthetic and where the grenade had sheared off his arm stills aches sometimes, but he’s lucky that he’s still here.

  
     3. There was no way he wouldn’t die of sheer awkwardness before he could even tell them the issue.

  
          A. Shit fuck godsdamnit 12 dozen Hutt-whores Forcefucking a Death Star—

_Now what?_

The outline got away from him towards the end and Bodhi was no closer to a solution, so he decides to lie down on his bed, stare at the ceiling, and despair for a minute or two. The only saving grace Bodhi can come up with is that Baze and Chirrut are off-world right now on a reconnaissance mission with Cassian and K-2SO. The timing of their deployments on different missions meant that by the time he had finished his supply run with Jyn, they had already left and Bodhi hadn’t been able to wish them good luck. He misses the four of them and there’s a low-key anxious tension that always runs through his veins whenever the Rogue One crew is separated, but he’s grateful for the time to catch up on some much needed sleep and devise a plan of attack.

Plus Bodhi’s unsure how much more of Jyn’s brooding he can take. She and the Balosar girl from the party were on the outs.

Thinking about his crew-mates’ romantic entanglements just reminds Bodhi of the barrenness of his own. He sighs as he wiggles back on his bed so he can pull his pillow under his head as his thoughts drift to the lunch he had with Ryscandor “Hot Glue” Sehrin’s unit earlier that day. The Sluissi Captain was handsome and gregarious company and the engineers under his command were just as charming to talk to. There was a rookie named Kinn Vox who had cracked a joke that nearly made Bodhi snort out his tea; she had beamed as Ryscandor handed him a napkin and patted him kindly on the back.

Bodhi hums to himself as his hands wander up and down his sides. Kinn had a pretty smile, her amber eyes had lit up like the sun glinting on the brass stems of those long hosed pendulums he remembers old Jedhans smoking from, the intoxicating smoke wreathing around their faces and the charcoal they would place in the bowls calling to his mind the banked fire in her eyes and the one beginning to smolder in Bodhi’s belly. She had flipped her lavender hair over her shoulder and it had looked surprisingly silky and smooth for a grease monkey like Kinn, but she kept very good care of her hair as well as her trim body. Bodhi wonders what it would look like mussed up, how far the indigo that all Pantorans blushed would go down her body.

Bodhi may have caught up on sleep while Chirrut and Baze were away, but he hadn’t touched himself in a week or so. He flicks the buttons of his pants open and pulls out his swelling cock from his boxer briefs. Sliding his shirt up and his pants down, Bodhi’s thoughts turn to Ryscandor instead; he mentally shrugs and follows the thread. He was easy to talk to, his sibilant accent sliding deliciously across his ears, his mouth and forked tongue shaping around Basic in a captivating manner; Bodhi has spent more time than was probably appropriate watching Ryscandor’s mouth and imagining it working magic around his prick. Bodhi knows Ryscandor is strong, constantly lifting heavy equipment makes his biceps bulge under his glossy scales, and the tail that makes up his lower body was thick and muscular and would undoubtedly feel amazing between his thighs as he bounced on Ryscandor’s hemipenes.

Bodhi was fully erect now and strokes feverishly as his fantasies fell sideways and he imagines grabbing onto Vuusen’s curved horns like the handlebars of a speeder and grinding into the Devaronian’s plush ass. A sharp twist of his hand and the idea of Flashy, the sexy older Mandalorian clone who looked like a bear, folding him in half and plowing him for hours sends lightning through his veins. His mouth waters at the thought of going down on whatever petty officer Finwej has between xir legs (he wasn’t picky nor would he be surprised by whatever configuration xe had). A vision of Stordan and Cassian double-teaming him flits through his mind and he fucks up into his fist with a whimper. Bodhi’s hand flies over his cock as he strains for release, so he doesn’t hear his favorite/least favorite neighbors come back until a desperate moan cuts through the air like a lightsaber through a limb.

A mingled “I need you-Come here-now!” is accompanied by crashes and Bodhi’s whole body locks up like a wooden marionette, with his shirt pulled up to his armpits, his trousers tangled around his ankles, and his hand still wrapped around his leaking erection. An especially filthy groan galvanizes Bodhi back into animation and he’s _horrified_ when his prick gives a twitch.

_NO NO NO NO NO GO DOWN GO DOWN GO DOWN._

He pulls his shirt down as he struggles into a sitting position while wrestling his pants back up, and ends up half falling off the bed and barking his shin against his night stand. Bodhi accidentally bites his tongue as he barely catches himself from smacking his head on the floor and he suppresses a pitiful whine as he clutches his leg, but keeps sliding down in a flail of limbs that bears more than a passing resemblance to a starfish, a spider, and an octopus getting in a prison brawl. By the time he stops tumbling ass-over-teakettle, he’s somehow hunched upside down with his unrelenting hardness staring him accusingly in the face. The lurid sounds coming from the recently returned (and _early)_ Guardians bleed through the walls and his prick _will not go down._

_Stop that! The flesh may be weak, but the spirit is no longer willing!_

A full-throated cry and the racket of something falling to the ground alarm Bodhi as he winces and shoves his stiff cock back into his underwear, the persistent tent in his pants filling him with dismay. He scrambles up fixing his clothes and tries to will himself back to softness.

_There is nothing sexy about this. Nothing! The show is over, the cleaners are out, leave! Well the show’s just begun, but I don’t wanna listen!_

Chirrut wails, “Baze, Baze, take me now against the door I don’t care!”

The alarm and dismay suddenly morph into frustration and anger in a flash-fire that burns up Bodhi’s insides. Chirrut bloody should care! It’s mid-fucking-day! There are other people on this base too! Some of them even live next door! Some of them are traumatized having to listen to their kinda sorta family breaking the bed all the time! Some of them are sick of the lack of consideration for their own feelings, sleep, and wanking schedule! Bodhi builds up a head of steam and decides he’s going to walk over, knock, and give them a peace of his mind! Baze taking Chirrut against the door be damned!

As soon as his erection wilts!

Bodhi has never had such a determined hard-on in all his 25 years and he briefly wonders if he should go to medical later about erections lasting longer than four minutes after listening to your maybe-dads getting hot and heavy, but he banishes the thought and simply grows more furious. He decides to hell with it, and grabs a jacket to tie lopsidedly around his waist covering the front of his pants. He doesn’t give a bantha’s ass if he looks ridiculous and barges out of his room over to Chirrut and Baze’s.

Bodhi readies himself to bang on their door when he hears Baze’s voice breaking in a rattled tone he’s never heard the mountain-steady man use before.

“Never do that again Chirrut. _Never_. I can’t lose you, love. The Force can’t take you away from me yet.”

It ends on a jagged sob and Bodhi stands like a statue with his fist raised when Chirrut tries to soothe his husband in an uncharacteristically and equally frantic voice, his words running together and over each other in a near-incomprehensible stumble, a stark contrast to his usual smooth prayer and friendly banter.

“I’m here Baze, I’m here, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to frighten you, I can’t lose you either they had their blasters to your head—I nearly lost _you_. But we’re here we’re alive we’re together all is as the Force wills it, but the Force won’t rip you from my arms my Baze, my _world_ , we didn’t die on that beach and we won’t now I love you I’m sorry kiss me _please—_ ”

Chirrut’s outpouring of fear and love is stifled by presumably a kiss. Bodhi lowers his hand and steps back. He feels the anger drain out of him in a rush as he rubs the back of his neck and he feels some unknown emotion take its place. He stares at the ground as it swamps the last embers and turns away when he hears Baze say, “I love you.”

Bodhi glances down at his crotch and snorts. _Listening to that sure killed it._ He walks towards the hanger, then spins around and heads to the command center. He might as well go find Cassian and check up on him; ask him how he is after the mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i fucking hate formatting oh my god, but HERE HAVE CHAPTER 3


	4. Chapter 4

Bodhi is going to have a conversation with Baze and Chirrut like an adult.

Which he _is_. He’s 25 in Galactic standard for Force sake, it shouldn’t be difficult for him to have a civil sit-down with his colleagues, perhaps over a nice cuppa tea, and discuss the issue calmly and maturely. He’s had problems with roommates before. He can totally do this.

Except this is Chirrut and Baze, not some rando coworkers who he only ever knew by sight, and the situations with roommates were either resolved by bribery, exchanged favors, or (he’s not proud to admit) creatively applied revenge. Although sometimes his roommates just straight up died on missions, something he was never informed of because the Empire didn’t give a shit about cargo pilots and expected them to do the same, which Bodhi very very much does not want to happen this time.

But he’s hanging on by a thread on the end of his rapidly unraveling rope, and fatigue is sawing through the fibers like a hot knife as delirium soaks the line with gasoline, and crankiness lights a match to ignite his swiftly shrinking short fuse until his brain explodes in a fireworks extravaganza louder and more blinding than the Jedhan rocket beehive festival, and all the Naboo candles are flying straight for his chest, ready to either give him an overabundance of good luck that will flip him all the way back to putting-all-your-credits-on-a-lame-odupiendo rotten luck or kill him via blunt force trauma, and all he can do is watch as his arms get tired and his hands lose their grip on his sanity.

He’s losing grip on that metaphor too.

Well that’s not what matters—what matters is that Bodhi needs to pull on his big boy Rebel fighter “I’m the pilot!” pants and have an honest talk with Baze and Chirrut.

Now if only he could find them.

He searches their rooms, the mess hall, the training room, the shooting range, the hanger, the little patch of forest where Chirrut likes to meditate and braid flowers into Baze’s hair as his husband naps in his lap (and where Bodhi had once caught them jerking each other off, and really? Outside? Where the bugs can bite them? He can’t even believe these two), but they’re nowhere to be found. He meanders into one of the workshops and decides to say hello to K-2SO. Bodhi feels like he and the droid have a special affinity, not just because they both left the Empire and survived Scarif, but Bodhi enjoys K-2SO’s dry sarcasm and refusal to be treated as lesser than the other Rebels just because he isn’t an ‘organic.’

“Bodhi,” K-2SO inclines his head as he greets the pilot, “you look like you should be lying down in either a bed or a hole in the ground.”

“Thanks Kaytoo,” Bodhi snarks back, “You know exactly what to say to brighten my day. Have you seen Chirrut and Baze?”

“No I have not, and if you’re going to ask me to help you locate them, my answer is no. I’m not interested in walking in on them mid-coitus yet again,” the droid whirs high in its chassis, suspiciously close to a sniff.

Bodhi sighs, “You too, buddy?”

“They’re not exactly subtle,” K-2SO whirs again, “even if they’re currently being elusive.” He refocuses on Bodhi, “You look perilously close to being sent to medical, Bodhi. Do you want to know the likelihood of you dropping a tool and breaking your own foot?”

“No, I think I’m good, Kaytoo.”

“Your insomnia could be alleviated by participating in sexual intercourse yourself. I can tell you which personnel on base would be the most amenable to helping you.” The droid tilts its head as Bodhi chokes on nothing and pats him none too gently on the back.

“That won’t— _ack, ack—_ that won’t be— _ack—_ necessary, Kaytoo, um, thank you,” he manages to stammer out.

“Cassian is at the top of the list,” K-2SO steamrolls over him, “Stordan Tonc and Arbalz Grenushe are tied for a very close second, and the rest of the list is approximately 90.3% of the base excluding droids. The other 9.7% are incompatible species and sexual orientations.”

Bodhi coughs and he feels his face flushing with blood, “Really?”

“Yes. Are you doubting my calculations? Also the pilot who blew up the Death Star, Luke Skywalker, obviously wants to talk to you, but instead he spends his time mooning at you.”

Bodhi gapes at him, _“Really?”_

“Yes, Bodhi,” the droid says in the tone of a lord speaking to a new and particularly slow servant, “really.”

“Well, I—I should get going, er, I’ll see you later,” Kaytoo.

“Don’t pass out in the middle of the hallway,” K-2SO calls out to him as Bodhi scurries away, “and consider what I said.”

Bodhi needs a moment to process this groundbreaking information, but then abruptly remembers he has a mission, and damn everything else he is going to finish it. He shunts the information into a corner of his mind and sets off to find the older Jedhans. He combs through the base systematically, exchanging bashful hellos with everyone and oh good gods Kaytoo was right people keep giving him flirty smiles and looks and saying things like, “Heeeeeeeey Bodhi, could you lend me a _hand_ right now?” How did he never notice this before? He tries to be breezy as he passes by and most likely fails wretchedly; the attention is getting to him and it’s not helping him with his pre-confrontation jitters either. Bodhi can feel a dizzy spell starting to come upon him, though whether it’s because of his state of exhaustion or embarrassment or both he can’t tell, and pops into a hallway with less traffic to cool down. So of course, he almost runs smack dab into Baze and Chirrut precisely when he didn’t want to see them.

“Bodhi, you don’t look well. Is something wrong, kibva?” Chirrut’s brow furrows the way his husband’s does as he asks, and Baze steadies Bodhi with a hand on his shoulder. Bodhi sways into him—and whoa, okay, he didn’t realize he was _that_ woozy. He steps back and scrubs roughly at his face until the weird shapes at the edges of his vision dissipate, and heaves a large and gusty exhale.

“No, nothing’s wrong, well no, I mean yes, there is something wrong. There’s something I need to talk to talk about with you, both of you. Could we, gods I don’t know, go to the room where you usually meditate? Somewhere private.”

Baze and Chirrut look at Bodhi with twin looks of concern and agree; Baze insists they detour by the mess hall to pick up lunch first, and they walk to the room Chirrut has claimed for meditation in the far east wing of the base in silence, each of them carrying a container of biryani (Bodhi had blushed crimson when the Iktotchi cook handed him the box with a wink. How did Frovryk know it was his favorite food?) and Baze carrying a thermos of tea. The three Jedhans step into the room, and Bodhi freezes in his tracks when Luke Skywalker glances up at them in surprise from where he’s seated lotus position on the ground.

Luke “The Pilot who Blew Up the Death Star and Literal Jedi-in-Training” Skywalker actually _blushes_ when he locks eyes with him, and Bodhi doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Chirrut hadn’t kicked his student out with a cheerful, “Hello, Luke! I’d apologize for interrupting your meditation, but the three of us need to have an important discussion in here so you need to leave. Here, have some roti. Go practice your forms in the training room, your Xuvva stance is still atrocious!”

Bodhi mumbles an apology to the fleeing Jedi and gets a sunny cheeks-stuffed-with-roti smile in return—by all the solar systems and galaxies his eyes are so _blue—_ before the door closes and the pilot is left alone with the ex-Guardians. They gather around a low table, and Chirrut says a small prayer over the meal that isn’t what Bodhi remembers from his youth, but still makes him happy to hear it, and they dig into their food. Chirrut talks about the program he and Baze are working on with some of the Council to help relocate or recruit Jedhans who weren’t caught in the Death Star’s blast, periodically prodding his husband both metaphorically and physically in the gut to chime in. They fall into a light-hearted squabble and Bodhi is grateful for it because he knows they’re partly doing it to give him a sense of normality he can sink into. Most of it is just that they’re a pair of besotted old husbands.

As they sit together and sip tea in peaceful silence after finishing their biryani, Bodhi feels a lot lot better. Though of course he’d feel better with a full night of sleep, but he’s working on that right now. He takes a deep breath and the two older Jedhans turn towards him expectantly.

_Alright, moment of truth._

“So I wanted to talk to you guys about,” he waves one hand around in circles as he tries to put ‘you two humping nonstop like bunnies’ in delicate terms, “our sleeping arrangements.”

_Close enough._

“What of them?” Baze asks with a head tilt exactly like Chirrut’s when he’s confused. By the Force, they are so married.

“So here’s the thing. The thing is, that. Our rooms are right next to each other, right?”

“Yes, we know,” and fuck they’re talking in unison too.

“Okay, okay, and you know the Rebellion doesn’t have the biggest budget to spend on the best accommodations.”

Baze snorts, “That’s for sure.”

“And I really respect you two. You’re like family to me and I don’t wanna make this weird, even though it’s already weird, but I didn’t want to make it _weirder_ and—”

“Bodhi,” Chirrut gently cuts him off before he can spiral into the ground like a B-wing with a clipped tail. “What is this about?”

Bodhi drinks the rest of his tea to stall for time, and then slides a hand down his face with a guttering sigh. He keeps his eyes fixed over Chirrut’s shoulder as he confesses, “I can’t sleep because you guys are too noisy at night. And some mornings when I wanna sleep in. And some afternoons too.”

The room resounds with silence, and then Chirrut starts _giggling._

Bodhi stares at him offendedly before glancing at Baze who at least has the shame to blush. Though he ruins it by muttering, “Damn it, not again.”

“What do you mean _not again!_ Have you had noise complaints before?” Bodhi splutters loudly.

Baze stares resolutely into his tea while Chirrut hides his face in his husband’s shoulder, his giggling pitching up into wild cackling, and finally answers with a short, “Yes.”

“And you didn’t listen to your other neighbors?” Bodhi hears his own voice rising in ire and exasperation.

Baze drinks the rest of his tea to stall for more time, mirroring Bodhi’s actions from earlier, and then pours himself another cup of tea.

“Baze! Chirrut!”

Chirrut gasps out in between raucous peals of laughter, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just we hadn’t had any noise complaints from angry neighbors _here_ before, though we’ve had a few in the past. And we thought you weren’t sleeping in your room. Haven’t you been seeing, who was it, Vox? Or was it Korus?”

Bodhi gawks at the dual implications; he doesn’t know what part of that statement to react to. Baze has apparently decided to shut up entirely and let Chirrut speak, pouring himself a third cup of tea and filling up Bodhi’s cup too. Bodhi thanks him absentmindedly before reiterating, “A _few_ in the past?”

Chirrut snickers, “Baze and I got told off by an untold number of other Guardians for ‘causing an unholy racket every night’ when we were living in the Temple. We had to bounce around rooms until the Elders finally stuck us in the room next to deaf Master Zenti.” Baze shifts in his seat uncomfortably and Chirrut pats his arm. “And then after the Temple fell, we had scores of irate neighbors banging on our door and walls, but we were living in a series of tenement rooms which are notoriously noisy anyway.”

Bodhi takes a moment to digest this news, and then his mind catches on the second outrageous bit.

“Why would you think I wasn’t sleeping in my room? I mean it’s my room, there’s no reason for me not to sleep there.”

Baze levels him with an incredulous stare while Chirrut shrugs expansively. “There are plenty of rebels who would give their right leg to tumble you into bed. We never heard you bringing back night-time visitors, so we assumed you were joining people in their own rooms. I’m sorry if we’ve upset you, we never should’ve presumed.”

Baze repeats the apology, and Bodhi shakes his head dolefully.

“I can’t believe everyone is more optimistic of my sex life than me. Apology accepted, just please keep it down?”

Chirrut gives him two thumbs up, Baze nods gravely, and Bodhi has a feeling they aren’t going to remember this promise once they get each other naked again. Well, at least the conversation wasn’t as bad as he imagined it would be. Bodhi shakes his head again and stands up, taking his dirty container and utensil with him.

“Okay, good talk. I’ll see you guys later. And please don’t have sex in here.”

Baze shoots a furtive glance at the wall opposite the door, and Bodhi quickly bends and places his dishes on the floor just so he can throw his hands up.

“Oh! My gods! I _swear_ on the rings of Jedha if you two have also fucked on Rogue One,” he squawks.

Chirrut chuckles, “Don’t worry about it. You should go talk to a certain blond farmer-boy from Tatooine instead. Or a special Captain with a Festian accent. Or a particularly sarcastic Togruta medic.”

“Or anyone else who looks at you like you’re everything to them,” Baze suggests, and Bodhi doesn’t know if the gruff older Jedhan means to give his husband that very look when he says it, but he does. Chirrut grins knowingly.

Bodhi notes that neither negated the accusation, but lets it slide, snatches up his box and utensil, and books it out of the room with a last, “You two are gross!”

A chipper “This is what true love looks like, kibva!” follows him out the door and Bodhi can’t resist smiling at that. Maybe he’ll take their advice to heart.

\--------

The next day Bodhi stares at the noise-cancelling sleep headphone band that has magically appeared on his bed.

_Why didn’t I think of this in the first place._

Bodhi slips it on and thumbs the button next to his left ear, and the hectic sounds of the rebel base fall away. He thumbs the button again and slips it off. The sleep headphone band is extremely nice, and Bodhi tucks it away into his nightstand. The gift from Chirrut and Baze (though most likely just Baze) is considerate and much appreciated, but his thoughts are all turned towards tonight. Because tonight he’s got a hot date. He glances in the mirror and winks at himself.

One way or another, Bodhi is going to get a full night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BY THE GODS IT'S DONE. IT SHOULD NOT HAVE TAKEN SO LONG, BUT HERE IT IS. BODHI NEEDS NEW NEIGHBORS AND AN AMBIEN IS FINISHED.
> 
> HIT ME UP ON TUMBLR I'M THERE TOO AND I'M SO PUMPED THAT I FINALLY ENDED THIS BLASTED FIC
> 
> edit: LOL I left Bodhi's date deliberately open-ended. It's whoever you want it to be ;)

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be 4 chapters, it's just that the last one is fighting me and I feel like I've taken way too long to post this so here take it away from me.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr. Yell words of encouragement at me because this fic has taken me hostage for months now.


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